Dark Blood
by Evil Blood Mage
Summary: For some, a happily-ever-after just isn’t enough… The Blight has been defeated, but the ambitious blood mage Lilith Amell wants much more from life. And suddenly, she finds out something that could become her greatest happiness – and her worst nightmare…
1. Author's Preface

AUTHOR'S PREFACE

My Dragon Age story was far, far from over when the game ended. Even the epilogue suggested – "This wasn't the last time Ferelden heard of her, however…" So this here is the continuation of the story of Lilith Amell, her lovers and her friends.

Be warned: LOTS OF SPOILERS, as my story picks up where the game ends. Also, this is going to be EVIL. I played Dragon Age as an evil blood mage (hence the pen name), and tremendously enjoyed it. So this is for those who love Dark Side stories. Also, I absolutely adored the romance part of my evil blood mage and a certain sweet good (um, not always) Templar. Personally, I think that Alistair's personality has much potential for Dark Side, much like Anakin Skywalker, so those who are horrendously appalled about the idea won't like the story I guess. Those who like me wondered how delicious could corrupting Alistair and turning him to the "bad" path would be, I hope, will enjoy my story. Concerning the evil path, however, I'm not enjoying massacring entire villages of innocents just for the fun and stealing candies from babies. I prefer to think of my character Lilith Amell as a complex personality, who has an affinity to darkness, is power-hungry and unscrupulous, but nevertheless will fiercely protect those she loves and cherishes as friends.

My main pairing is with Alistair, of course, as I've come to totally adore the guy. There is going to be a love-triangle involving a third party whom I'm not going to disclose just yet. Also, there will be other romance-lines with characters I liked… (Ok, ok, so there _will _be a bit of Cullen, I can disclose that much to the Cullen-fans out there.)

Rating is Mature, because of blood, violence and sexual scenes.

I'm always grateful for the comments and feedback. It's not my first attempt at writing, but it is the first to write in English, as it's not my native language, so if you find any mistakes, please tell me I'll be thankful.

Hope you enjoy it.

Yours truly,

Evil Blood Mage


	2. Chapter 1: The Unwanted Guest

CHAPTER 1: THE UNWANTED GUEST

The Gnawed Noble Tavern was decorated with flowers, the splendour of red and white roses and the shy white twinkling of those small wild petals known as Andraste's Grace giving off a sweet fresh scent, and bright multicoloured ribbons. Edwina was hurrying to and fro about the inn, to the kitchen and back to the main room, snapping orders to servants and wincing at the sound of the growling from the side room.

"Lilith, I understand your... friends… helped to save Ferelden and such, but I would appreciate it if the whole cow's carcass would make them a bit… quieter. Oh, and please… would you _mind _slipping off that table and sitting yourself in a chair instead?" – the old woman winced.

Lilith Amell smiled and granted the old lady's request by relocating to the near-by chair. Her fierce mabari hound, Ghar, misinterpreted it as a sign for action and leapt from his resting place under the table with a bark. Edwina gave a jolt.

"Oh you mongrel… if Jakeb was here, he'd throw you out, I swear!"

The two women's eyes simultaneously traveled to the empty tavern-stand.

"I'm sorry, Edwina," - said Lilith quietly.

The old woman pressed her lips tight. Wrinkles collected around her eyes.

"Nothing you've got to be sorry for. If not for you, I'd be in the same place wherever my son is now… Now, woman, I've got work to do, if you want to have a wedding in this tavern tomorrow!" – she sounded lively, but her voice was strained. She made an awkward turn and scurried off to the kitchen.

Lilith looked at the empty stand again and tried to envision Jakeb there. Seems like it's been only yesterday they talked last time. _Last time, indeed. _Lilith reached for the crumpled notes that were still in her pocket. Love letters of the stupid wealthy nobles, she hasn't been able to procure enough for Jakeb and the "certain interested parties" he worked for. Now it was too late. Lilith tossed the letters into the merrily burning fire. Jakeb was killed along with the rest when the darkspawn horde invaded Denerim.

Her glance swept over the tavern. The colourful decorations for the heroes' of Ferelden wedding made the place lively and festive. But the damage showed. A broken window here, a burnt wall there. Denerim still had a long way to recover from the darkspawn horde. Of course, there were always those who took their own advantage of the situation – Lilith's hearing has grown sharper lately, and she was hearing how two kitchen girls discussed some rogues who tried to rob the palace treasury in the commotion provided by the darkspawn, and who were now awaiting trial in Fort Drakon.

"I wonder why you made a decision to celebrate your wedding here, and not in Arl Eamon's estate", - said Leliana's soft voice. – "After all, you are a Teyrna now," - the bard winked to Lilith.

"I prefer it here," - Lilith's voice grew cold. Sure, a Teyrna. How glamorous. A human and a noble now. Pity it's not Anora in the darkspawn's bowels now instead of Jakeb.

"I would say," - the musical Antivan accent broke in as Zevran glanced up from his cards he'd been playing with Leliana, - "that The Pearl would be a far greater surrounding for your striking beauty, Lilith."

"Are you saying I should hold my wedding in a brothel?" – Lilith arched a brow at the elf.

"My lovely blood mage, I'm saying that you should probably reconsider your wedding at all, given the poor choice of the candidate for the event and the doubtfully exciting nature of marriage itself."

"Do you mind keeping your voice down about the blood mages?" – hissed Lilith. – "As to the wedding and marriage, I swear I will make your life _extremely _exciting if you don't stop on your comments about Alistair, Zevran."

"Oh? This _should _be interesting…" - drawled the elf, his eyes twinkling at the Warden. – "And – Alistair? Whoever mentioned Alistair? Anyway, now that we've come to think of him unfortunately in the course of our discussion, where is he – I can't see him here…"

"He's with Arl Eamon, discussing something…" - Lilith let out between her teeth.

"Oh, the Arl… no doubt, receiving instructions for the wedding night. Not the best source of expertise, I see, considering needing Andraste's Sacred Ashes for… elementary bodily functions."

Lilith laughed in spite of herself.

"Zevran, you're… horrible."

"Always ready to serve, my Grey Warden… or should I say Your Lordship, now that you are the Teyrna of Gwaren?" – Zevran bowed his head. – "And does that mean you've reconsidered your wedding?"

Lilith sighed. Some people were just incorrigible.

As if to confirm that thought, Oghren, who had been drinking himself stupid all day long, shoved the ale tankard aside and collapsed on the table, laughing uncontrollably. Sten, who had been sitting next to him, looked at Oghren with the strongest Qunari disapproval. _I do have such wonderful friends_, thought Lilith sourly. She had been feeling a bit ill today since morning for no reason she could think of, and bitter for reasons she knew only too well… she knew what exactly would help her, but the thought brought no comfort. Also, she was feeling a bit disappointed… she wanted a certain person to be a guest at her wedding, but that person had sent a note she wasn't coming. _Of course, I'm so stupid, it was clear she wasn't coming. She's got more important business to attend, now that I've granted her the thing she had been lusting for for years._

"Asschabs… 'course she isn't sodding coming… now that she's got her sodding steel goonies to play with, you're right that's all she ever wanted."

"Um, Oghren, did I say that out loud?"

"You did," - whispered Zevran. Lilith blushed and cursed herself for blushing.

"How was your wedding, Oghren?" – she asked to change the subject.

"Eh-he-e… we fucked." – slurred Oghren. – "In public."

Zevran choked on his drink.

"All right… forget I asked," - Lilith gave him a strained smile.

_Why did you ever think you were friends with her. Why did you think she could ever be friends with anyone, for that matter. _Ah, there was one more person… she missed. But no, she could never think of him being present at her wedding. This would make things… complicated. Why the hell can't she forget about him at all. Better stop thinking about him.

_Maybe you want to see those two because they can help you in getting what you want, and you know it, _a thought snaked its way inside her mind. _Or maybe I can't forget that kiss at the gates…or what happened at the mountain top…_No. Stop it. These thoughts won't get you anywhere.

She was snapped from her reveries by a sudden commotion at the doorway.

"Oh, how beautiful it is here!" – squealed a voice at the door. – "Look, children, look, this is the fabled Gnawed Noble Tavern… Good day to you, old lady, I've come about tomorrow's wedding, I didn't get the invitation and thought it was some kind of mistake, as we are a family and all, of course I decided to come in and inquire, as my house is just across the square… Oh, could you please show me where I can sit… it is so exciting, a _wedding_, almost makes me cry… who could ever have thought…"

As she recognized the voice, Lilith's face grew hard and her eyes narrowed. _Oh no, you don't._ She snapped from her sitting-place and crossed the room. The woman in front of her had a cheap worn dress of a gaudy bright-yellow colour, clearly one intended as a garment for special occasions. There were two small children clinging to her skirts. As soon as she saw Lilith, the woman gave out a wide false smile, which showed her bad teeth, and tried to embrace the Warden, but Lilith stepped back. The mage's eyes were icy-cold, and if looks could kill, the commoner woman would certainly be lying dead on the floor already.

"My dear… my dear, dear one," - the other woman noted the tension and continued somewhat nervously, but still keeping that glued false smile on her face, - "I am so honoured that you are about to become my sister… you, the Teyrna of Gwaren, and my little brother Alistair, son of King Maric, and you both the saviours of Ferelden… oh, who could ever have thought… And where is Alistair, is he not here? I long to take him in my arms and give him a sisterly kiss as a blessing for this wonderful marriage with you…"

"_Get. Out of here. Now."_ – Lilith put a stress on each word, crossing her arms on her chest, her mouth twitching slightly.

"Now, now, my dear… no need to be so rude… now as we are to become family, we must put these petty disagreements aside, mustn't we… Oh, this is such a nice smell from the kitchen, could we sit somewhere and have a little meal maybe? And you still haven't told me when Alistair is returning… you see, with the darkspawn and all, that you two have so nobly defeated, our house is in a poor state, and the carpenter charges so much, we just can't afford it… Oh, but look how beautiful you are, my dear sister-to-be!" – Goldanna was chattering quickly, throwing nervous glances at Ghar who gave off a low growl.

"I'm not your sister and never will be." – Lilith's voice was low and constrained with rage. – "I will sooner be a sister to the Archdemon which I have recently slain. If you want money, you may go to the Docks and sell your wretched body to the sailors who are too drunk to notice how ugly you are. And if you thought that bringing your brats here would wrench a gold-flowing pity out of me, you were _dead _wrong. And if you, mind it, if you _ever _show your presence to me or Alistair again, I will use spells on you which would make your blood boil and gush from your eyes, nose, mouth, ears and whatever openings else you have, I swear it. Now get out of here. NOW."

Goldanna's mouth was open agape, and she was trembling with indignation and fear. Suddenly her features became mean and hateful, and she scowled at the Warden.

"Look at her, the new Teyrna of Gwaren, how high and mighty!" – she spit out. – "Well, high and mighty you might be, and wealthy too, and this hero of Ferelden, but the thing is, you won't ever have even as little happiness as I do!" – she pointed at the terrified children at her skirts. – "Oh, surely you must know, being such a wise mage as you are, that this Grey Warden taint you and my bastard brother share, has rendered you both infertile! And you, Lilith Amell, will never be able to grant him a child, no matter how much you fuck!"

Lilith went deathly pale. Zevran and Leliana moved closer to her, they knew just how dangerous she could be, and there were too many witnesses around now to engage in Lilith's deadly and forbidden art of blood magic.

But she was standing still as stone, as if Goldanna's words had frozen her to the ground.

"Cassian!" – her voice was rasp.

"Look, Mummy, there's a big doggie!" – ventured Goldanna's little boy from behind his mother's skirts.

"This ain't no doggie, you stupid…" - said a girl about two years older than him. – " 'Tis a monster."

Goldanna shrieked as the great werewolf went out of the side room and neared her, with a low growl baring his sharp teeth still dripping with blood from the raw meat which he had been feasting upon.

"Your command, Warden?"

"Take this lady out, Cassian. And see her to her house. It's just across the market square… so that you know where it is, should she get lost again and come to me."

"May I tear her leg off?" – inquired the werewolf with interest, his red tongue licking his teeth.

"No, I don't think that would be necessary. Not unless she wishes to return."

Cassian gave a dissatisfied grunt and shove the terrified Goldanna out the door. The door shut after them, and Goldanna's whimpering grew fainter, but Lilith still stood frozen before the door, her face white as death.

Leliana tried to touch her shoulder in a comforting gesture.

"Lilith… don't… just ignore what she said…"

The Warden jerked away and held up a warning hand. Lilith was slightly trembling now, her eyes were wide and seemed almost black. She kicked the door with her foot, and stormed out the tavern. Ghar followed her at her heels.


	3. Chapter 2: The Craving

CHAPTER 2: THE CRAVING

Blood pounded in her temples as she as much as ran into the market square. Goldanna's words burned in her mind. Of course, she knew it. She resented it, as much as many things, as the fact that she couldn't be Queen with him, as the fact that she gave the power she wanted for herself to a doll-faced treacherous bitch, to keep him at her side. Possibly, resented more than those things. It felt as though Goldanna had slapped her across the face in front of everybody, only this was much more painful. Oh, she longed to go straight ahead to her house now and order Ghar, or Cassian as he had wanted, to rip her apart, to watch close by as the flesh was torn and the blood splattered on her face… She forced herself to stop and take a deep breath. She couldn't do it. No, she just couldn't. So many things she couldn't do… this made her feel powerless and helpless, and she loathed the feeling.

Ghar nudged her hand with his massive head, and she patted him absent-mindedly. Sometimes she wondered how much the mabari understood. He sure sensed the feelings and emotions of his master. Lilith turned her back on Goldanna's house and continued through the market at a quick pace. She had mastered her feelings, but that didn't make it any easier.

Liselle cried out from her stand with her thick Orlesian accent:

"Well, if it isn't the young mistress who saved Ferelden! Come in to my place, my beauty, you need to check your wedding-dress! It is so lovely the Maker himself would fall in love gazing at you!"

Lilith just waved her off. She wasn't in the mood to discuss anything, least of all her wedding-dress. She was sure Liselle had made a masterpiece out of it, but thinking of it made her throat feel dangerously raw. _You will never be able to grant him a child, no matter how much you fuck._

Liselle's slanted eyes grew wide with astonishment at the Warden. Truly, these Fereldan girls are so strange. Who wouldn't be interested in her beautiful wedding-dress. Shouldn't a girl be thinking of nothing else but the celebration on the eve of her wedding, not darting off somewhere with a sullen face. No, this country had such strange customs.

Lilith was feeling this loathsome weakness again. Her head was swimming, and slight waves of nausea washed over her, as she escaped the Market District into the back alleys. She tried to brush off the fear that has always come with that recent weakness. She told her for the hundredth time that it must be the aftereffect of all this Archdemon business, and surely it would soon be over. After all, who knew that as long as it didn't kill her, it couldn't still temporarily weaken her?

_But the cravings had come before that…_

Above her head she saw the many broken battlements of the city. The sun was already setting, and bathed the ruined buildings as if in blood. The city was gravely wounded, and though in time it would recover, it was still in pain. She heard a woman sobbing and wailing somewhere. She had a sudden urge to enter that house, to comfort her, and then to… She walked on, quickening her pace. The evening air was chill, but she was sweating as if in a fever. The spinning sensation in her head grew worse, and altered to throbbing pain. She also felt a dull pain somewhere deep inside her. _The last time was 3 days ago. It's growing more frequent. _At the bridge across the Drakon River she had to stop, letting the cool wind from the sea caress her burning face. Ghar cocked his head at her, giving a little whine.

"I'm alright, boy," - she smiled. – "Don't you worry. I'll soon be alright."

She lifted her head and started off resolutely. She was entering the Elven Alienage.

The Alienage was a part of Denerim that didn't show considerable difference from itself after the darkspawn breaking in the city. It was the same dilapidated buildings, dirt and garbage, famine and poverty, as Lilith remembered it from the time when she was searching for proofs to discredit Loghain. It reeked of death and decay now. It had reeked of death and decay then. She pondered if the elves she agreed to be sent to slavery didn't find a better life as slaves than confined in these stinking walls. Ah, if it was back then and not now, she would seek out Caladrius. He could possibly know what ailed her, as a blood mage too and with more experience than Lilith, he could help her. For the right price, of course, as all Caladrius did. But he was long gone from these places, as a rat fleeing a ship. She was on her own. And though she didn't know the cause, she knew the cure well enough.

Lilith came up to the half-ruined building. How one managed to live in such a "house", remained a mystery. But the elves didn't have to choose.

_Do I have to do it?_

She suddenly doubled over with pain and nausea and retched. As she collected herself and straightened, the dizziness before her eyes grew worse.

_Oh yes, I do._

"Stay here, Ghar. Guard," – she pointed to the nearby bushes. Ghar made a protest of growling, but when she repeated the command more sternly, he obeyed and tailed off.

Lilith knocked on the door slightly.

A guarded voice questioned from inside:

"Who's there?"

Life in the Alienage didn't incline to ready hospitality.

"It is me, Soris. Lilith."

The door opened at once, and the red-haired elf stood before her with a grin.

"Wow, the saver of Ferelden. Didn't expect to see you here at my doorstep! But hey, you are a welcome guest."

"Soris, do you mind if I go in? The evening is quite chill," - Lilith's voice was somewhat tense.

"Sure, Lilith, I shouldn't keep you standing, the wind is blowing hard today indeed," - he motioned her in, closing the door behind her.

The inside of Soris' dwelling wasn't any more glamorous than the outside. A crude table with three chairs around it, a heap of dirty rags on the floor, a narrow passage leading to the corner where the bed was. Soris took the Warden's hand and led her to the chair.

"My, you are so cold, you must have really frozen in that wind. Here, I'll get you something to drink."

_Frozen? I'm burning._

Soris reached into an old box and procured a bottle of what was the cheapest Denerim wine.

"Not the fanciest stuff, I know… betcha they drink something different in the Palace. I feel so… shamed, actually… I should offer a more suitable refreshment to the one who saved my home when no one else cared about it."

"I don't live in the Palace," - Lilith said in a low voice, ignoring the elf's last statement.

Soris leaned in to her by the light of the candle illuminating the rough surface of the table.

"Lilith… are you sure you are alright? You look so pale… and you are shivering. Shall I put more wood in the fire?"

"No need…" - she whispered, looking up at him. Soris felt uneasy somehow. She was so beautiful. Raven hair, dark brown eyes, luscious lips… People gossiped about her in the street, said maybe Ferelden should make her the Queen, though a mage and of common birth. Yet there was something… wrong in her. Something in how hard those eyes glistened in the dim light of the candle. Something in the stillness of her posture. She looked as if expecting battle any moment. Something about how she parted her lips slightly and licked them. Suddenly he wished he was far away from here, this Alienage, this house, with the human girl he loved. And at the same time he had to shamefully admit to himself that he desired this woman. Ever since she rescued him from Arl Howe's dungeons. And now, when she was sitting across from him at the table, staring at him with those dark eyes, with a pang of remorse to his bride he felt himself go hard.

"Soris…" - her voice was low, thick with some emotion he couldn't guess. She stood up from the chair. He could see her clothes hugging the full feminine curves of her body. His mouth went dry as she circled the table in two steps and was now standing next to him.

"I am so lonely, Soris…" - she whispered barely audibly. She beckoned him to stand up, too. He witnessed himself obeying as if it was someone else's body and not his own. He was slightly shorter than her, as she was a human and he was an elf. He felt her breath on his face.

_Her eyes, they are swimming with shadows from the candlelight…_

He couldn't resist her as she pulled him closer to her. Now he felt her body with his own. The stiffness between his legs became harder. His heart raced as she ran a hand through his hair, kissing his brow slightly. _Oh, but how cold she is._

He wanted to have her, wanted to have her now, on this very table, doesn't matter that Shianni is about to come, doesn't matter he is getting married, doesn't matter that this woman is getting married tomorrow.

He put his arms round her body and kissed her.

She swiftly drew a little silver dagger from the sleeve of her robe and slit his throat in a second.

His blood gushed out on her face and her clothes. She greedily moved her mouth up to the gaping wound, swallowing the warm spurting blood in quick gulps, feeling it overflowing her, washing the pain and the sickness away, filling her body with warmth, giving an exhilarating sense of power…

His face froze in an expression of surprise. He didn't have the time to feel fright or pain.

She was nearing fulfillment of the need, when Ghar's low growl from outside warned her that somebody is coming. She cursed. That was not enough. Though the wonderful sensation was coursing in her veins now, she knew the craving would soon return again. But she couldn't afford risking being seen.

She let Soris tumble to the floor. He fell with a dull thumping sound. His blood quickly gathered in a pool around him. She looked at it with regret in her eyes, both for him and for the blood she wouldn't be able to drink. Then she stealthily slipped out of a back room window, making for the bushes where Ghar was. They hurried away further into the dark alley. Behind her, Lilith heard Shianni's voice calling for her cousin. Then she heard her scream. The Warden didn't stop, but continued down the alley to the riverside.


	4. Chapter 3: The Fountain

CHAPTER 3: THE FOUNTAIN

Once at the river, she splashed the cold water onto her face, washing the blood away. The cool and the freshness felt so exhilarating on her forehead. She reveled in it, taking a deep breath, never minding the stench and the dirt around. She threw her head back, face turning upwards to the now almost-darkened sky. She could discern the faint sparkles of stars where the clouds cleared. _Such power. _The power was tingling at her fingertips, coursing through her entire body. She knew that now she could take on a group of full-armed adversaries with ease. Her body was enveloped in delicious warmth, flooding her cheeks, making her blood run faster.

Ghar was licking the remaining blood off her skin and clothes. Ah, the clothes, she realized as she swept herself over with a glance. Her robes were blood-stain and irreparably ruined. Good it was just plain robes and not her magical enchanted vestments, she mused.

Lilith got up to her feet. It was time to leave the Alienage. No good to stay here much longer. If this was found out, she would have… problems.

- Come, Ghar, - she whispered to the mabari. – Our work is not yet done for tonight.

As she was traveling the back lanes and alleys of Denerim, the exhilarating intoxication gave way to brooding thoughts. _Why is this happening. Why to me. Is it a usual effect of blood magic?_ She had become addicted, she had to confess it to herself. She couldn't go on without it. She depended on it now, like the poor Templars depended on lyrium poisoning their body and mind.

She wished so much there was someone she could turn to. Someone wise, who would understand it and tell her what to do. Someone who knew the dangerous paths of blood magic, and where they led. She thought of him again, not the profiteering slaver Caladrius, but the other, the man who was not himself a mage but invoked the power of blood.

…_the fire dancing on the ice, the sound of their unison chanting, the flapping of Her great wings, his strong arms around her as he is taking her with brute force upon the altar… _

No. She pushed the images back to the deep recesses of her mind. She didn't want to think of that, not before her wedding-day.

But she wished she had someone with the lore of blood magic at her side. _Morrigan, Morrigan, you could so help me now. I wonder where you are. And I don't care if the remaining darkspawn cut your head off. _Lilith squared her shoulders. She hated thinking of Morrigan.

The witch who probably understood her best of her companions, being of the same unscrupulous hard nature. The young woman who became her close friend, regardless of her icy comments and cold demeanour.

The one who proposed to save the Grey Warden's life.

By laying with Lilith's love, Alistair. Conceiving his child that the Archdemon's soul would go into.

_She was planning to do that all along, you know. That's what she joined for. That she could have this power, using him and using you. How could you for a second believe her banter that she found a true friend in you._

Lilith glanced back behind her at the shadows gathering in the city. She had a sudden feeling someone was watching her. If Morrigan didn't go away as she had said she would, she would kill her. _Oh no, for if her unborn demon child perishes, who knows what happens to you or Alistair. _She cursed again silently.

She hated that Morrigan would bear Alistair's child.

_How I would love to grant him a child. _And then, who knows what opportunities could that bring, the child of the last heir to the Theirin bloodline, and Anora's five-year-marriage with King Cailan did not produce any offspring, so she is seemingly barren… _As are you. _

There was a feeling amid the bitter thoughts. A feeling… of some Presence. Something. Listening to her. Watching her. Biding its time in hiding. The shadows around her seemed to grow thicker. Lilith quickened her step. She wished to get to her destination before nightfall. There remained however the question of how she will go back. Ah, she wished for so many things which couldn't be true.

As she turned the corner, she came out into a small square. She knew this place. She had been here before. This place was one of the blurred memories she had of her childhood, when she grew up in these dark alleys… before the Circle, before the Templars came for her. She couldn't remember the house she had lived in with her mother as a child, only that it was a poor house in the Docks. But this place, she remembered.

Because of the fountain.

There, in the centre of the dirty little square, was an ancient fountain. Perhaps it remained there from the times of the Tevinter Imperium, as it resembled their splendid but eerie statues. It must have been very beautiful once, it was made of carved stone, metal and marble, showing little fish leaping out of a pond, and on top of them, in the centre, a great Dragon spreading its wings… but now it was dirty, long ago dilapidated and decayed, most of the fish chipped off and were lying now on the bottom of the marble filthy pool. But Lilith had always been fascinated with it, ever since the times she was a little girl with no friends and strange powers, it seemed to her that here, in this ghost of former glory, there lives Magic, somewhere deep inside, that with all the devastation and decay it hadn't lost its soul, once breathed into it by some Tevinter artist. And it still had water in it. Descending in streamlets from the gaping mouths of the remaining rusty and greenish fish, rippling and tingling, falling into the murky pool, splattering in tiny drops…

As a child, she often came here, dropping a stolen coin or a found broken token into its dirty waters. Making a wish.

…_I wish Mother didn't cry at night, thinking I do not hear her…_

…_I wish I had a friend who would understand me and play with me, not run away from me, calling me a witch…_

…_I wish the butcher's boy who had hit me so badly two days ago would catch the plague and die a slow painful death…_

…_I wish I had a father like other children do…_

…_I wish a handsome prince would come for me, and love me, and carry me off to his castle, never to let go of me…_

…_I wish the power I sometimes feel inside me would grow, and grow, and become stronger and stronger, till one day I can move mountains and make great clouds of fire appear, and make all the people bow before me, as the ruler of the world…_

…_I wish there were still Dragons who rode the wind in the sky, like in the tales, and one of them would come to me, and carry me away into the night from this place, become my friend and help me conquer the world…_

Something tingled in Lilith's eyes as the childhood memories of a little girl dropping her meager treasures into the fountain overflowed her. So many wishes, for such a little one. So many treasures, obtained with such risks from the passers-by, or the stinking ditches, or small things her mother sometimes gave her, broken little ornaments with strange undecipherable carvings on them.

She came up to the fountain. It had seemed much larger back then, but the dragon was still there, watching over his host of half-broken fish. A figure wrapped in rags huddled at the side of the fountain. A beggar. Clearly, not much coins left in the pool over those years, mused Lilith sullenly. The dark water gave off a faint filthy smell. No one ever bothered to clean the fountain, that was obvious.

Not minding the stench, Lilith leaned down to the gurgling water. Almost twenty years have passed. But it was still… enchanting somehow. It remained itself, through the ages, through the neglect and decay. She almost felt herself that little girl, clutching her little sacrifice in her hand and fervently praying to some unknown gods.

She smiled, although she didn't feel like smiling.

_I wish to master that power I have._

_I wish to find out what the hell is happening to me, and either put an end to it or learn how to use it._

_I wish to rule Ferelden, instead of that bitch Anora. I wish to rule the other lands, as well._

_I wish not to die stupidly in some thirty years time, and I wish the same for him. I wish to discover those ancient secrets of prolonging life the elves and the Tevinter mages of old had._

_And…I wish to give him a child._

She was smiling sarcastically, but her eyes were moist for some reason, as she took out a gold sovereign from her pocket and tossed it into the fountain. It glinted in the gathering night, and with a little splash disappeared in the dark water.

The beggar by the fountain shifted in his rags.

- Might you have another sovereign for an old man, my lady? – creaked the voice.

- If you are that desperate, you might as well dive into the pool for that one I just dropped, - replied Lilith somewhat tartly. She wasn't inclined to alms-giving today, thank you very much. But something in the old man seemed familiar… she peered into the shadows to look at him closer, but she couldn't say where she could have seen him or heard him before. Besides, his aroma wasn't quite welcoming.

- The fountain listens, and hears, - he whispered. – Some wishes it grants, and some wishes have already been granted, even you might not know it as yet… - he broke out in a crazy hoarse laugh.

- Why don't you try wishing for a bath then, - muttered Lilith, and ordering Ghar to follow her, turned and left.

The old man was watching her leaving till she disappeared in the shadows. His broken lips stretched in a smile, revealing his rotten teeth. He winked at the dragon guarding the fountain. The dragon was silent, watching the water swirling with still stony eyes.


	5. Chapter 4: Fort Drakon

CHAPTER 4: FORT DRAKON

She looked up as she entered the courtyard of Fort Drakon. To its broken battlements, upon the rooftop.

There, the greatest battle took place. There, the Archdemon was defeated. Slain by her hand.

The top of the front battlement wall was still covered in black. Where the blood of the great Demon-Dragon had been spilt, its stain could not be removed. It remained, a dire memory to all who would gaze upon the great castle walls. That the strength of men would be forever tainted by the evil that sought to master them.

_What were its last thoughs, I wonder. _Oh, but she had sensed those last flashes of His conscious. Rage. Disbelief. Pain. Withdrawal... fading... as His great body ceased to shake in death convulsions.

After that, after the Archdemon fell and the pitch-black eyes rolled up in its head and became glassy, after Alistair hurried to take her in his arms and gently carried her off, after her allies gave a wild cry half of triuphm and half of disbelief, she stole a quick glance at Morrigan, to see if that burning rage now reflected in her eyes, as its soul now rested in her womb. But the witch's face was the same, hard and cold.

The many times she came here after, she always remembered. She always looked at that looming rooftop.

"Who goes there?" – barked one of the guarding soldiers.

"It's me. Again", - Lilith smiled.

When the guard recognized her, he lowered his weapon and bowed low.

"It is an honour, Teyrna Lilith".

Teyrna Lilith. How strange that sounds, still.

Lilith gave a curt nod to the guard and passed further, up the staircase to the high doorway. Behind her, with her keener hearing she heard the soldier whispering to his mates:

"She's the hero... how she defeated the dragon up there, on that rooftop... so beautiful, too..."

She was clearly quite popular with the people now.

As she entered the Fort, other recollections filled her mind. How she escaped here, with Alistair, when they fooled the dumb guardsmen, pretending to be soldiers in their ranks. How greatly amusing it was to witness the sergeant questioning him as a newbie soldier, Alistair frantically turning to her for the right answer... How happy and free they felt when they finally escaped. How then he took her in his arms and kissed her, just the two of them in Denerim's back streets...

Master Ignacio of the Crows told her afterwards. Loghain meant to execute them. And, if not for the darkspawn threat and the value of the remaining Grey Wardens, Anora would have put Alistair to death. The Crows knew so much.

As she entered the Fort wing where they kept prisoners sentenced for execution, she couldn't repress a shudder. Couldn't do it on either of her visits here. It could have been him, him at those despaired-filled cells, at the torture chamber, at the Chantry chapel where they brought them to pray an hour before they died.

Now she heard sounds. From the torture-chamber. So far it was only shouting, not yet screaming. Good. She was on time.

"You rotten lot, better tell me now who you work for and where they are..."

"Dear sir, we ain't got noone to work for, was our idea all along... help us the Maker, we gotta feed the kids..."

"You have no kids, you filthy scum! Robbing the treasury... at such an hour when all Ferelden's fate hang at a thread... Who gave you the plans, tell me now, or to the rack you go!"

The ardent inquirer in the uniform carrying Queen Anora's crest stopped abruptly, as he noticed a young dark-haired woman who was leaning against the wall folding her arms across her chest, clearly enjoying the spectacle, with a great mabari hound at her side. The hunch-backed little man who had just been pleading with the authorities opened his mouth in astonishment, then gave a reassuring wink to his comrades who were held by the guards. They whooped agitatedly, and the guard had to smack them on the head. Another manacled man in the corner, a young one, almost a boy, remained silent and as if oblivious to the visitor.

"Maker, not again..." – groaned the interrogator.

Lilith arched a brow.

"My, my, Master Prosecutor Nogan, you don't seem to be willing to serve Ferelden today."

At these words Nogan's face grew a greenish pale.

"Teyrna, you get me wrong... I only meant... these men..."

"Yes, these men," – the Warden pointed at the company with a graceful gesture, - "What exactly have they done?"

"I assure you, my lady," – Nogan shuffled his feet at a manner painful to see, - "They are all the criminals of the vilest sort! Clearly, they deserve the severest punishment...as a defender of justice, I..."

"Ah, shut up, you are flattering us... the vilest sort would cut your men to pieces instead of landing in Fort Drakon", - the hunchback spat on the floor somewhat merrily, his deferential manner changing to contempt in a second. A soldier hit him, the little man staggered but stayed on his feet.

The defender of justice continued indignantly:

"Those three... broke in the Palace, meaning to rob the Royal Treasury! In the darkest hour, when the fate of humanity itself was at stake..."

Lilith gave a whistle. That was no small feat. They must be either very brave, or very foolish. Foolish is bad. But they might have some connections... otherwise how have they got the Palace plans...

"And that one... yes, that one there, in the corner, is about to have his tongue cut out."

"For what atrocities, pray tell?" – Lilith inquired. She noticed how the interrogator's cheeks grew red at that.

"For saying... for having the gall to proclaim, in public..." – Nogan lowered his voice, - "That Queen Anora is an impostor... a usurper... and... and... of questionable birth."

"I didn't say that," – said the young man sulkily. – "I said that swineherd bitch had no more right to the throne than her lowly murdering father!"

Lilith did her best not to laugh out loud. That was hilarious.

"Birth is not what really counts, my lad", - she said in mocking disapproval. The man didn't reply, just hung his head back on his chest, ignoring her unlike the others who were grinning and cheering, not minding the guards who tried to bring them to order. Clearly, the young one hadn't heard the stories.

Her favourite part started now. Oh, since the defeat of the Archdemon she had been through this many times, and it never seemed to bore her.

"Their crimes are indeed grave, but they will better redeem them serving Ferelden. Release these men. I invoke the Right of Conscription."

As the released men filed behind her out of the Fort gates, she smiled to herself. Four more. Very, very good. She had already fifty now.

That is, if they survive the Joining, she mentally corrected herself. She hoped they would. She liked them, and they had no big love for Queen Anora. They would make fine Grey Wardens, indeed. And they had more than enough of supplies of Archdemon blood now.

She had learned that the hunchback was the leader of the little company of thieves. He had refused to name himself, preferring to call himself Hunch.

"You have been granted the great honour of joining the Grey Wardens. And, Hunch, I hope you remember where your loyalties lie..." – she had reminded him, lowering her tone.

He understood. He narrowed his little eyes and gave a grin.

His comrades were called Fox and Goon. Fox was a dark and handsome thief, while Goon was very big and very stupid. I wonder what will Alistair think of these new recruits, she thought with a sigh. They hadn't yet told her where they got the Palace plans, but she was sure she would get it out of Hunch eventually. As for now, Ghar was guarding them closely, she explained it to them that if they wished to feel the mabari's fangs on their throats, they were welcome to try and escape.

The last one, the young man who insulted Queen Anora, was the fourth son of a poor noble family. His name was Walter, of Riverwells of the Bannorn, and his house had cruelly suffered at the hand of Arl Howe, Loghain's rabid dog. Walter was slightly mad, or so Lilith thought, and hated Loghain and his daughter with a passion. He was a pale youth with light brown dishevelled hair and stubble covering his cheeks.

As they left Fort Drakon behind them, Goon nudged Fox with an elbow. The thief winced and rubbed the bruised arm.

"You're an idiot, Goon. I didn't escape the hangman to be beaten to death by you moron..."

"Moron yasself... 'Ear it, Fox... she's no awdinary danssel, she is..."

"Of course she isn't. She's the Grey Warden who saved all Ferelden, and she's been saving our folk from the noose or the axe... dragged lots of them right out of death's clutches..."

Goon squinted at Lilith who was leading their way.

"Aye, me knows... But look at 'er... jes' look... me grannie was a wise-womans. Wise-womans, me tells ya... she's got darknis inside 'er..."

"Never doubted that your grannie had darkness inside her. You told me she married her own uncle, and your mother married her brother didn't she. That's why you are such a smartie..."

"Naw Fox ya stoopid", - grumbled Goon. – "Me meant the Wardin... Darknis inside 'er, growin' strong and big..."

Lilith had been finding this conversation very interesting, and was just about to turn and and join the discussion, when a familiar voice tore the darkness of the night apart.

"Lilith! There you are. I was starting to worry..."

That deep voice she knew so well.

He ran up to her and stood before her, the light of their torches throwing a dancing light on his muscular figure. He was without his armor, just wearing his clothes, and she made a mental note to scold him for that. There were a lot of backstabbers prowling the night Denerim. Those clothes wouldn't be great defence, thin as they were, outlining his strong muscles. At least he didn't forget his sword and his shield, she thought.

The torchlight danced on his handsome smiling face, illuminating his light brown eyes with impish sparkles. He had slight lines on his forehead and around his eyes, though he was still young, only two years older than her. She loved the slight stubble on his chin, the way it tickled when he kissed her... and did other things.

Alistair.

"I thought you decided to leave me and run off right before our wedding day," - he whispered, pulling her close to him.

She buried her face in his neck, kissing his skin slightly. How she loved that manly scent of him.

"Oh, you are always joking, aren't you..." – she said softly, running her hands over his fair hair. She knew his obsession with his hair and would often tease him, ruining it deliberately with caressing fingers, but this time he didn't care or didn't notice. – "I could never leave you..."

"Good to know", - Alistair smiled and covered her mouth with his. She felt the heat of his breath, and ran her hands over his broad warrior's back as he entered her mouth with his tongue. They stood like this for a very long intoxicating moment, entwined, never minding the new Grey Warden recruits watching and Ghar giving an impatient whine.

At last she had to pull herself from him. It wasn't very good standing here in the back alleys in the dark, kissing obliviously to everything.

"You shouldn't have gone on your own like that," – Alistair said reprovingly. – "It's quite dangerous here. I always guard you and protect you."

Lilith was capable of taking down an entire band of enemies with her fearful blood magic, but it felt so nice when he insisted on protecting her. He was right, generally they fought as a pair, he taking on the main aggression bravely with his sword and shield, she working her spells behind his strong back, healing him when he got injured... or using his strength if someone broke through his defences and injured her.

"It was just a trip to Fort Drakon. Nothing dangerous."

"Nothing dangerous... Maker, you are covered in blood! Are you hurt?!" – his eyes widened with fear as he gripped her arm.

She grew slightly pale. Oh hell, she forgot all about the clothes. They were blood-stain. And she wondered why Goon felt unease around her.

"Well, me and Ghar ran into some ruffians in one of the back alleys. It's their blood, not mine. Like I said, nothing dangerous."

His relief was obvious, but he hadn't let go of her hand, and his eyes were stern and still full of concern.

"Some ruffians... just listen to you. They could have hurt you. Tomorrow you become my wife, and no way you are ever going to set out into dangerous places without me."

Lilith laughed.

"So are you going to lock me up in your bedchamber now, Your Highness?"

Alistair looked embarassed. He hadn't realized she was joking. Also, that slight hurt was in his eyes again. She shouldn't have called him His Highness.

"I just... can't bear the thought of you getting hurt," – he whispered.

"I was joking, Alistair," – she said warmly. His expression instantly brightened. – "Besides... I have no objection being locked up in your bedchamber... sometimes," – she whispered with a wink. She noticed with delight that he blushed slightly.

"Umm... are these... the new recruits?" – he quickly changed the subject, pointing at Lilith's little party of ex-prisoners and trying to sound authoritative.

"Yes, Alistair. I wrenched them out of the claws of those who meant to cruelly torture them. All this for questioning Queen Anora's authority in public", - Lilith ignored Hunch's surprised look.

"Anora... sometimes I doubt she will make a good ruler. This... is terrible, torturing people just for questioning her," – Alistair frowned. – "You know, Lilith... I don't quite like her."

_Oh really? I hate her. I would so much more like to see you on the throne. And as a King, marry whom you will._

"You have mercy..." – Alistair said softly. _Mercy? Those people might just prove useful._ – "I know... about today's incident. At the inn."

Lilith instantly tensed.

"I told her not to come close to you. I warned her. Now, it seems I _will _kill her."

"She didn't tell me, Lilith. It was Zevran who did."

_Zevran? Perfect. So it's him I have to kill._

"In our travels... well, you've always had... quite a temper. And... it was a surprise for me... that you didn't harm her," – his voice was so warm.

"I didn't kill her, if that's what you ask, because there were too many witnesses, and there could be too many problems," – Lilith replied coldly.

"No," – he pressed her hand with a smile. – "You didn't kill her because you didn't want to hurt her. Because as hard as you try to conceal it, you have mercy inside your heart".

_No, I wanted to slowly dismember her, and I still do. But I didn't do it as I knew it would hurt __**you**_.

She only smiled as they set off on their way to Arl Eamon's estate.

"Maker's breath, you are beautiful", - whispered Alistair, gazing at her fondly as the torches threw light on her. – "In the morning… I thought that you were unwell, and was worried a bit, you were so pale… But now, I see that I was wrong. You are positively… glowing."

Lilith averted her eyes.

"Have you thought… on what you want to do after we get married tomorrow?" – she asked.

"Yeeeeees… I want to enjoy my wedding-night with my beautiful wife", - drawled Alistair, his eyes twinkling.

Lilith gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

"Alistair! I mean, after that. What shall we do, now that the Blight is defeated?"

"Well, you said you wanted to travel… Actually", - his face grew serious, - "We do need to go to the new Grey Warden stronghold, at Amaranthine. Set up these fellows you've gathered here… check on the Orlesians… we might not dwell there permanently, but Amaranthine is our responsibility now, don't you agree?"

Lilith nodded. Amaranthine was of great importance. Alistair, in his childlike innocence, didn't grasp how much importance she attached to it. There was also the matter of her new Teyrnship, Gwaren. Need to check up on that, too.

"Also…" – Alistair continued, his gaze becoming sowewhat hazed, - "I was thinking… maybe we could… you know, Duncan's grave. At Ostagar where he fell. I thought, maybe… we might honour him and those that have fallen…" – his voice trembled slightly, and he fell silent.

"Of course, Alistair," – Lilith touched his arm gently. – "We will go to Duncan's grave together."

"I love you", - Alistair whispered.

"And I you. Tomorrow, you will be my husband".

After they reached Arl Eamon's estate and saw to the accommodation of the new recruits in the servants' quarters, Alistair led her to their bedroom embracing her gently with one arm round her waist, and Lilith thought she felt truly happy.


	6. Chapter 5: Forever To Love

CHAPTER 5: FOREVER TO LOVE

The Chantry was filled with the glowing of candles and the sweet music of young children's choir singing. Rich velvet draperies embroidered with gold were hung on the walls where they were damaged, on the stained-glass windows that were broken by the darkspawn horde. It gave the place an eerie dark, but that was dispelled with the numerous candles' light.

Lilith never had a father that she knew of. So today, First Enchanter Irving was leading her to the altar.

She was strikingly beautiful, if a little pale, in her white long-sleeved gown with thin strands of silver woven into the fabric, her thick lustrous dark hair adorned with pearls under the semi-transparent headdress. Her eyes gleamed in the candlelight, seeming darker than their usual hazel colour with the pupils dilated. She had Leliana apply a dab of lip-paint to her mouth, so now her lips stood out ruddy against her pale skin.

"You look very beautiful, my apprentice", - Irving whispered, giving a little smile. He had aged considerably in the past months, and she noticed that his hand holding hers trembled slightly.

Alistair gave her a wide happy grin as she joined him at the altar. He was stunning in his shining Knight-Commander Templar armor, which he insisted on wearing to the ceremony. He did look irresistible in it, her manly Knight in shining armor, and he knew it and wanted to look that for her, but it looked a bit strange at the marriage altar as Templars didn't exactly get married often. Maybe that's why the Reverend Mother is trying her best to hide her scowl into a smile, Lilith thought. It was worth it, the combination of Alistair's happiness and the cleric's frustration.

She looked at Arl Eamon who was standing close by. There was happiness in the old man's face. They had shattered his hopes for continuing the Theirin dynasty with Alistair on the throne – _for now, _Lilith corrected herself – but he was glad to see Alistair so happy as he looked now. The Arl cared for him like for his own son. His wife, the pesky Isolde, was by his side, wearing her best jewels. Lilith had always disliked her, and would kill her to do the blood magic ritual as the Arlessa had suggested herself, if not for the man whom she loved and who would today become her husband. Alistair sometimes had very silly and stubborn ideas, and that particular moment was before she learnt to persuade and sweet-talk him into practically anything. Arl Eamon's son, Connor, was also here and was looking at Lilith unfalteringly with his big, somewhat troubled eyes. _He doesn't look particularly well. I don't feel very well either, for that matter. _She hadn't been able to fully fulfill the need the day before, and now her head swam a little. Not that it made her less happy.

Her companions were there too, of course. They possibly couldn't miss their leader's wedding, and were gathered in the Chantry among Eamon's noble friends and those nobles who had supported the Wardens against Loghain, the common people whom Lilith and her friends had helped, and those just curious to look at the heroes of Ferelden united in wedding that day. Lilith had made sure beforehand that there was to be no sign of Goldanna. Leliana was wearing a bright green silk dress which suited splendindly her red hair and milky complexion. She was smiling, and her eyes glistened, but Lilith thought she perceived an underlying sadness in her friend's features. She knew that Leliana had feelings for her, and now, happy as she might feel for her Warden friend, Leliana was seeing a man taking for himself the woman she had come to care for so much. Oghren was drunk already. _I wonder how he is going to get through the evening celebrations_, Lilith smiled to herself. Sten's face had as much expression in it as the stone from which the Chantry was made. As Lilith looked at Zevran, she noticed that the elf's eyes glinted in a way she didn't particularly like, but that was just for a passing moment, and she decided it was a play of the candle-light. Wynne didn't come for the occasion from the Circle Tower, and Lilith couldn't say she was surprised or particluarly disappointed. She and Wynne had parted angrily, the old woman got mad at her for desecrating the Sacred Ashes and told the younger mage that she is leaving her to the darkspawn for Lilith was no better than them. Well, the old healer had been incredibly irritating about the two Warden's relationship, from the start, so no reason she should be present at their wedding. There were some suspicious whining sounds from under the bench where her friends were sitting. Alistair gave her a wink, Lilith had to supress a laugh when she thought of Ghar skulking under the bench right next to all these noblemen.

"We are gathered here today to witness the coming together of Alistair and Lilith, as man and wife", - the Reverend Mother's voice was a touch dry, but it didn't stop Alistair from beaming in happiness and squeezing the hand of his bride so strongly that she had to wince. She transformed into a smile, though. _You wanted to have a family, Alistair. And so you will, my darling._ – "Their hearts and spirits are entwined as one", - the cleric continued. Lilith suddenly felt a pang of pity for the woman. There were lots of lines around her eyes, and she had never had her heart or spirit entwined with someone else's, as in the lines of the marriage service she was reciting.

"Do you, Alistair, take this woman, Lilith, to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, forever to love?"

"I do", - his voice was resolute and deep. He looked so handsome in the candle-light, in his Knight's armor, his features composed and calm as she had never seen them before.

"Do you, Lilith, take this man, Alistair, to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, forever to love?"

"I do", - said Lilith quietly. She had wanted it for so long. Perhaps since that day she saw him at Ostagar. Perhaps even before that.

"Alistair, place the ring on your bride's finger."

Alistair took out a thin, exquisitely wrought ring and very gently slid it onto Lilith's finger. The metal gave off a faint white light. At first, she thought it was silver, but then she realized it was made of some other, unknown to her, metal. She knew Alistair had bought the rings himself, and childishly didn't let her even look at them before the ceremony. She loved how it gleaned in the light softly. He touched her other hand slightly, and she felt another ring in her palm, the one meant for him.

"Lilith, place the ring on your groom's finger".

Her husband-to-be was smiling with that innocent childlike smile she had come to adore so much as she put the other ring, made from the same strange metal, larger but otherwise identical, on his strong, sword-coarsened hand.

"Alistair, you may kiss the bride".

If there was a drop of sarcasm in the old cleric's voice, they both pretended not to notice it, as Alistair leant forward to Lilith and, cupping her head with one hand, kissed her gently, slightly opening her lips naughtily with his mouth and pressing her close to him with his other arm. It was a bit off the lines of the Chantry marriage ceremony, but it was delightful, sweet and seemed to Lilith to last for a happy eternity.

"In the name of the Maker, and Andraste his Holy Bride, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The words penetrated the sweet bliss in which Lilith was finding herself, and she smiled.

"_My husband…"_ – she breathed, tracing with her gaze the lines around his eyes which gathered as he smiled.

"_My wife..."_ – he whispered, and his eyes were full of love.

***

"No, Alistair, put me down!" – Lilith cried out, laughing. Alistair had swooped her in his arms and circled around the Gnawed Noble Tavern. He was no longer in his armor, the white shirt of fine fabric got loosen and opened at his chest, revealing his strong warrior's muscles. He was slightly flushed, and his always-immaculate hair was disheveled. He had had a bit too much to drink, but Lilith couldn't blame him. It was their wedding, after all.

"I told you before, my love", - he slurred, gazing at her fondly, attempting to plant a kiss on her lips which landed on her nose. - "Swooping… is… bad."

There was a loud cheer from the rejoicing crowd gathered at the tavern. The loudest of them was, of course, Oghren. The dwarf had been bestowing his attentions upon a kitchen girl, who was blushing furiously but didn't nonetheless object, and when he saw Alistair swinging his newly-wed wife around the tavern hall, he gave a loud cheering yell, the sort of which Lilith had heard from him before in battle, and tossed his ale-mug up above his head. It landed on Sten, splashing him with the remaining ale, which the Qunari wiped off his face stoically.

The guests were getting along very festive, indeed. Zevran was whispering something in Leliana's ear, which caused a lot of blushing and smiling from her side. Edwina was fruitlessly attempting to banish Ghar from the kitchen, while some of the drunken nobles were already snoring on the benches. Some of the decorations had come off in the revelry, but overall, the place was very beautiful with the flowers and ribbons. That was, however, totally lost on the werewolves, who were merrily devouring some poor animal's carcass in the main room's corner. _Maybe that's what troubling Irving, _Lilith thought. First Enchanter looked lost in thoughts, and there was some troubled expression in his face. However, whenever Lilith attempted to catch his eye, he smiled and made an effort to brighten up. Maybe he had also had too much to drink. Arl Eamon, on the contrary, seemed to be enjoying himself, especially since Isolde excused herself saying she was tired. Edwina was just about to bring a new change of course to the Arl, when Alistair lowered his wife upon Eamon's table, laughing.

"You are so beautiful…" – her husband's voice was slightly hoarse, and his arms roamed about her body.

_Oh my, he really had a lot of wine. _Lilith responded to Alistair's kiss, trying meantime to escape from the table where Eamon's dessert stood. The Arl was starting to look embarrassed.

"My love… put me down, please… this is hardly the time, you know."

"Hardly the time? But you are my wife now", - Alistair laughed, his smile was charming, but his eyes a bit unfocused.

_It must have been a blood magic ritual that put Oghren into my husband's body. _

"Alistair, it is _Arl Eamon's table"_, - Lilith hissed into Alistair's ear.

"Oh?" – his face got a troubled expression. Alistair turned his eyes on the Arl, who was now the same colour as his scarlet doublet. – "Oh. Sorry, Arl Eamon…" – He finally lowered Lilith to the floor. His cheeks were blushing. Lilith thought that it looked even sweeter now that he was drunk.

She herself hadn't much to drink, somehow she didn't want it, but her head was swimming nonetheless. She had to hold on to Alistair, as it seemed hard straightening herself. The air in the tavern was stuffy, thick with wine vapours. And other smells. There was something delicious in the air, something that made her feel intoxicated as much as any wine, so much so that it was difficult to think clearly. She made a step from Alistair and swept the tavern in a glance. There were so many of them, much more than the tavern was supposed to hold, all those flustered people, eating and drinking and enjoying herself… with her keener senses she could perceive their smells, the perfumes mixing with sweat, she would have found it disgusting, but now it wasn't, it was only intoxicating along with the stuffiness…

Along with that scent on the air… The sweet, overpowering scent which made her nostrils quiver. She felt it wherever she looked.

A noble, was he an acquaintance of her, she couldn't remember, biting into the chicken leg with appetite…

The crimson-red roses hanging from the ceiling…

One of them is lying asleep on a bench, his chest heaving with his breathing…

Irving's heavily-lined face, his eyes looking at her with concern…

The noise in her ears getting louder and louder.

The werewolves shredding at the flesh in the corner, snarling at each other, swallowing the meat, gobbling it hungrily…

The sleeping noble's head tilted upwards, a thin vein pulsating on his open throat…

Alistair's shirt open at his chest, his skin glistening with sweat, his heart beating…

The werewolves tearing off big red chunks of meat dripping with blood…

"Lilith!"

Alistair caught her in his arms as she fell forward, fainting.

***

She slowly opened her eyes. It was difficult to focus, and she felt weak. That, and the strange feeling at the pit of her stomach. She finally realized where she was, it was their bedchambers in Arl Eamon's estate. She was lying in her own bed in her undergown shift

Alistair was sitting on the bed at her side, his eyes full of concern.

"Lilith, my darling… how do you feel?" – he had sobered somewhat, though his hair remained unkempt and his clothes in disarray.

"Strangely… I feel a bit weak, but I'm alright," – she gulped and managed to smile.

"You had me so worried… passing out like that in front of the whole crowd. I was… so afraid for you, afraid that you might be ill," – he moved closer to her and gently took her face in his hands, half-reclining against the pillows.

"I am ill," – she whispered.

"Ill!" – his face went pale. – "I will call a healer now, you just lie down here and don't exert yourself…"

"I am ill with love to you," – she smiled. She propped herself on an elbow and kissed him gently on his lips. He still had that wine smell clinging to him, but that was not unpleasant. Nothing about him could be unpleasant to her. He embraced her with one arm and pulled her close to him.

"Never frighten me like that again," – he whispered, burying his face in her hair. "I… love you so much."

"I love you too, Alistair," – it felt so nice to be against his strong chest. In his bed protected by him. Loved by him. – "Could you give me some… water?"

Her throat felt very dry and raw, and she was feeling very thirsty.

"Of course," – he jumped from the bed and filled a glass with water from the jug. She swallowed it greedily in one gulp.

"Are you sure you are alright?" – the worry was still in his eyes, as he brushed a strand of her hair from her face while she drank.

"Yes… I'm alright…" – she whispered, putting the empty glass on the bed-side table. He looked so handsome, sitting on their bed in his shirt half-open. So irresistible. – "Only a little weak… Come to me, my love… my husband".

His eyes alighted, but his expression was still troubled.

"But if you feel weak… I don't want to hurt you… I can wait…"

"Hush…" – she pulled him closer to her, slidding her small slender hands under his shirt. Caressing his strong body. – "You won't hurt me… In fact, you can heal me… you know it…"

He was holding her in his arms, and his eyes dawned with realization. They had done it before in battle and after, when her life was threatened. He would sacrifice anything for her… anything to protect her.

Her quick gentle fingers undid the rest of the shirt, caressing his chest and his stomach meanwhile. He trembled, her every touch sent a pleasant shock through his nerves. Slidding her hand downward playfully, she noticed he was already reacting, and that brought a smile to his lips.

"I love you," – Alistair breathed, lowering her unto the pillows, unlacing her undergown. His large hands roamed about her body, tracing her every curve lovingly, his pupils dilated with desire, his breathing becoming heavier.

"And I love you, my husband," – Lilith whispered softly, answering his kisses, circling his nipples with her fingernails, which brought a shudder from him. She lowered her hands, slowly gliding them down his body, and undid his trousers. He was fully hard now, she loved how big and strong his manhood was in her hand, as she ran her fingertips over his tip, pressing it to her lower belly. He gave a moan.

"Share your strength with me…" – she whispered, lying back on the bed, opening her legs slightly, teasingly.

He reached for a dagger on the bedside-table. It was her little silver dagger which she insisted on keeping close to her even when she slept, even when he was there to protect her. He drew the sharp tip of it across his skin above his chest, making a long cut. He winced a little from the pain as the tiny scarlet stream of blood came to the surface. It dripped on the white sheets of the bed. She took the dagger from his hand and licked it slowly, her eyes never leaving his, her tongue gliding up the blade lingeringly. It made him go even harder, it felt like the whole of his lower abdomen turned to stone with desire.

He gently lowered himself upon her, guiding her mouth to the open wound. She caught the blood in long, tender kisses, sucking on him with a delicious childish sound. It felt sharp pain and pleasure, as usual, as his blood flowed into her. She was hugging him close to her, caressing his back with those tender loving fingers. He couldn't resist her any longer. The desire became so strong it was almost painful. He spread her legs open and entered her in one deep thrust.

"Alistair!" – she gasped, bringing her mouth away from him for a moment. He was a big man, and he filled her up inside.

"You are my wife now," – Alistair whispered, penetrating her even deeper with rhythmical movements. – "My strength… is yours…"

She moaned, and put her lips back on his bleeding chest. His blood tasted so deliciously, and his large manhood pushing so deep inside her made her cry out with pleasure. With each gulp, with his each thrust, the pleasure grew and grew, until it grew unbearable and they collapsed together in sweet spasms that seemed unending.

At last, the waves of rapture washing over them subsided. They were lying in each other's arms exhausted, gently falling down into sleep. Lilith, with her blood-stained lips, cuddled next to her husband, Alistair, who embraced her protectively with his arm.


	7. Chapter 6: Many Partings

CHAPTER 6: MANY PARTINGS

The wind from the sea was blowing in their faces as they stood at the docks of Denerim harbour. Isabela's ship, The Siren's Call, was rocking on the lapping waves. The captain of the fine schooner, the "Queen of the Eastern Seas" herself, was already on board, standing at the deck with her arms folded across her chest and her head tilted to the side mockingly.

"Move along, will you? I swear, darling, if that fat cargo of yours isn't getting himself on board this very moment, The Siren's Call is setting her sails without him!"

"I do not like this woman, kadan. It is another madness of you humans, that you let women be captains of ships."

Lilith chuckled.

"Well, Sten, that's the fastest way you get to Par Vollen. Isabela's sailing north to Rivain, and you'll be able to get off at Kont-Aar, the settlement of your people on Rivain's northern coast. From there you will get home easily. Remember, we discussed it?"

"I do. But easy is not the way of the Qun."

"Well, what's the fuss?" – Isabela bent over the shipboard. – "If the black hunk doesn't want my services, he can swim all the way to his precious islands. Would be sad, though... despite his silent demeanour, I was rather looking forward to... his company. Unless of course, you can spare your other hunky for me, no?"

Alistair blushed up to his ears.

"No. Definitely not. I find your interest in my husband rather disturbing, Captain," - Lilith made a stern face, but her eyes were laughing.

"Ah well, the Qunari will have to do then," – sighed Isabela. – "Get yourself on board, darkie-boy, then... it's a long voyage to Rivain..."

Her husky tone seemed lost on Sten. Lilith tried to imagine them... caboodling, as Alistair would put it (or "polishing the moaning statue", Oghren's quotation came to mind instantly), but the idea was too ungraspable.

"Farewell, kadan," – Sten bowed his head slightly. – "If we ever meet again, I would be honoured."

"And so will I," – Lilith replied. She took the Qunari's hand in hers, Sten tensed and his eyes grew wide with astonishment, but he didn't pull away. – "That's a pity you are going. I was just starting to like you."

"And I you," – Sten replied gravely. – "If a time comes when you need my sword again, come to seek me... I will answer your call."

"I will count on that," – Lilith's voice was quiet but resolute.

As the sunlight came from the clouded sky, touching the green lapping waves playfully, there appeared something that actually could be called a smile on Sten's face. The great Qunari warrior nodded farewell to the Warden and her friends, turned and went up the gangplank on board the ship.

As she watched The Siren's Call set sail to the open sea beyond Denerim harbour, Lilith realized for the first time in her life that she was going to miss Sten.

***

"Are you sure that you don't want to stay with us? – Lilith asked Leliana, as they made their way through the Market District to the city gates. With a pang Lilith realized that their little company was getting smaller. Wynne left her all this time ago, and now Sten went on his own way too. Now it was Leliana's and Oghren's turn to go their separate ways.

There was a touch of sadness in Leliana's eyes. _She still cares for you, and you know it. It is better that she goes._

"I... I have to find Marjolaine, Lilith. I really do," - said the red-haired girl quietly.

"And what are you going to do once you find her?" – Lilith's tone was harsher than she wanted it to be.

Leliana gulped.

"I... I'll kill her. I have to settle this."

The bard's voice trembled, and Lilith was not at all convinced.

"Just make sure that you do. Remember what I have taught you, Leli. A breathing enemy could be your own undoing", - the blood mage's tone was soft, but her eyes had this steely shine as she took Leliana by hand. The rogue grasped her friend's hand.

"I will never forget what you have taught me. You are a true friend, Lilith... and an admirable, unique woman... You are... so strong."

_Oh yes, she is still in love with you._

"I'm not Marjolaine, Leliana..." – the words slid off her tongue unwillingly, and she instantly regretted it as she saw the flash of suppressed pain in Leliana's eyes.

"You are not..." – whispered the girl. – "You have never been like her... not to me."

_Not to you. Not to Alistair, not to my frieds. I guess that's the difference between me and Marjolaine. That, and that I do not fail._

"I do wish I wasn't travelling with Oghren, though!" – Leliana exclaimed with force gaiety, wanting to change the subject.

The dwarf gave a grunt.

"Asschabs... I'm sodding fed up with gals that would run off to another gal at the first chance... No, woman, I'm settling down. I'll go find my Felsi... the boss asked me to travel with you to protect you from sodding darkspawn and monsters and brigands, but ol' Oghren doesn't want to look under your skirt, not this time..."

"What an enormous relief..." – Leliana replied tartly.

"Oghren, you settling down?" – Alistair arched his brows. – "Who could ever have thought..."

"Aye, boy, don't you miss me... Big mistake you gettin' married and sodding all that, mark my words, I warned you many times and here you go... that witch with nice boobs was right about ya being an idiot..."

"I might just change my mind and feed you to the remaining darkspawn, Oghren," - Lilith winked at him.

"Bloodthirstiness is such a charming trait of character..." – Alistair whispered in his wife's ear.

They had reached the city gates. Beyond, two roads forked, pursuing two different directions and disappearing into the horizon. Oghren and Leliana were about to take the North Road which ran through the Fereldan Coastlands, and would take Oghren to Lake Calenhad village where his old flame Felsi awaited him, and Leliana on to Orlais through the Frostback Mountains passage. There was a brief awkward moment of silence. No one knew what to say really, they had grown so accustomed to each other on their travels that the parting did not seem real somehow. At least with Zevran giving a polite cough, the painful silence ended, and the friends hugged each other and exchanged hearty farewells and good luck wishes. Then, the dwarf and the bard set off on their journey, the rest of the adventuring party containing now of Lilith, Alistair, Zevran and the dog staying in the gates and waving goodbyes. Leaning close to Alistair, Lilith felt a wetness on his cheek.

"Some dust has got in my eye... stupid dust," - he replied hastily. He gave Lilith a nervous smile.

"It's ok, Alistair... They were good friends," - she responded quietly, squeezing his hand.

"They still are, aren't they," - he smiled.

"Of course. I wonder when we will see them again..." – Lilith said thoughtfully, gazing at the road running towards the far horizon.

***

When they returned to Arl Eamon's estate, Lilith was somewhat surprised to find First Enchanter Irving in the main hall. The old man looked anxious about something, there were deep lines on his forehead which Lilith knew well to appear when something troubled him. As soon as he saw her, he smiled tensely and motioned her to join him in a private study. Arl Eamon told her that the First Enchanter had wanted to see her on some matter of urgency. No, it was not concerning the darkspawn, or immediate state affairs, just some Circle business as he had gathered. Something with which Irving required his fabled Grey Warden apprentice's assistance, but nothing to be of much worry.

Yet, Lilith thought, First Enchanter Irving did not look like what was on his mind was nothing to be of much worry. In fact, he looked the very opposite.

"Will you sit down, Lilith?" – Irving motioned her to the chair. His face was smiling, and his eyes were kind, but his voice sounded apologetic and nervous.

_Uh-oh. This doesn't bore good. _

"Of course, First Enchanter," - she masked her worry by her most charming smile. – "Is there... something that bothers you?"

"Yes..." – he gulped, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. – "Yes, there is... Lilith, what I have to say... is difficult, because I myself don't know what the matter is. And that's... that's precisely what is unnerving me so much."

Lilith was looking at her old tutor patiently.

"Go on, pray tell."

"Lilith... what I am about to say... you were my best apprentice. And you have saved this land from terrible darkness," - clearly, what he was about to say was paining Iriving, - "Tell me... have you noticed anything... strange... about yourself lately?"

She tensed all over. But that was only inside her. Outwardly, she remained the same relaxed attentive pupil, listening to her old master.

"No," – she lied.

"Perhaps..." – he has gone red in the face. _What if he dies here. I never realized how really old he is..._ – "Perhaps, if you think of it closely, you might notice something... For there have been... changes in you, Lilith."

She has grown pale.

"What changes?" – she whispered faintly.

"It pains me to say this, Lilith..." – Irving grimaced. His eyes were tender and kind. – "I have been watching you for some time now... these last days after the great victory... your victory... and I do not like what I see."

"What do you see?" – her voice was hoarse. Her mind was swimming with images... Templars taking her away... a cage, a cell somewhere in the dungeons... oh, they will not kill her, the hero of Ferelden... They would make her Tranquil. An emotionless stupid doll. That would never share those nights of passionate love with Alistair again. She prepared herself. She did not want to do it, but she would. First Enchanter is frail and weak. His powers are not what they used to be. If he tries capturing her... she crossed her arms in front of her, this movement a distraction to enable her take firm hold of the silver dagger in her sleeve. She would not strike him, oh no. She would strike herself, and the blood will flow, and the hell would be unleashed...

"Do not fear me, child," – Irving said softly, reading some of the emotions her face betrayed. "I will do naught to harm you. I just ask you... to be cautious. To keep close watch on yourself, should you find something... strange occuring. And, if that be the case... seek help. For I have seen these symptoms before... not exactly, for this is something different, but similar."

"Where?" – her head snapped up.

First Enchanter Irving sighed heavily.

"In the Circle Tower. Yes, you are right... when _it _occured."

Lilith felt her skin go cold.

"What I have seen... some... aura all mages have and all mages perceive... it resembles the symptoms of those turning into abominations."

"So am I an abomination, now?" – her head spinned. This couldn't be real. Not this.

Irving raced to hold her up as she nearly fell from the chair. His wrinkled face was full of concern.

"No, no, dear child, you are not... I know such things, and would recognize that in you... you are not by any means possessed. Your soul is as free as it ever was. Yet... I can sense something about you... some darkness around you... inside you. I know not what it means, and I don't understand it... I have never encountered anything like this before, with anyone... and this is precisely what frightens me so."

Her eyes were wide with real fear as they met his.

***

Arl Eamon's greenhouse was one of the estate's most beautiful places. When one entered there, it seemed that one got into another world, one that was green, full of radiant colours and scents, the singing of birds and magic.

She was standing there, fondling an injured bird in her slender fingers entwined with vines and roots, whispering something softly in the bird's ear, her sleek black hair falling over her face and covering the bird protectively.

The bird chirruped, shook its little head and flew off up into the overhanging branches, healthy.

She brushed a dark strand of that long hair from her face and smiled, with the ages of wisdom and magic reflecting in that smile.

Lilith always felt so calm looking at her. This feeling of beauty and peace radiating from her was the same as could be felt in places of nature, whispering streams, dark forests, tingling waterfalls… And that was what she was, she was Nature itself.

The Lady of the Forest turned to Lilith, that wonderful calm smile not yet leaving her face. Yet there was something in her traits, sinister and cold and dangerous and deadly, and that also was a part of Nature itself.

"Greetings, Lilith. I know why you have come…" – her voice was musical and lulling, as forest streams flowing. – "I sense… fear in you."

The Warden felt hot blood race to her cheeks. No one will say that she is a coward. Yet she was afraid… yes.

She walked up to the Lady of the Forest and boldly looked up in those pitch black eyes.

"What is happening to me?"

The Lady's laugh tingled with the sound of glass bells.

"Something that is perfectly natural… and yet unnatural", - her face grew darker. – "But, alas, I can not tell you as yet…"

"You _will _tell", - Lilith's voice grew steely.

"Or what?" – the Lady's eyes were looking straight into the mage's eyes. There was no menace or anger in that gaze, just a touch of sadness. And… Love. Lilith startingly realized that the ancient creature's eyes were full of Love for her. – "Trust me, Lilith… I wish you no harm. And you will know in good time what it is with you. Know however… this much I can tell… that it is of no harm to you. And, if you allow it, it will make you even more powerful than you are now."

Lilith could attack the creature right there and then. It would surely be a trying fight, but she could succeed. She had great powers. After all, she killed the Archdemon. But she did not want to harm the Lady. The Love in the Lady of the Forest's eyes shook her to the core. No, she wouldn't hurt her. Not ever. Suddenly she remembered of her own long-lost mother. The last time she saw that kind of Love was when a child she had been looking in her mother's eyes.

"I am going to leave the city", - Lilith said quietly. – "I am going to Amaranthine with the new Grey Warden recruits. I cannot stay here… they are already suspecting something is wrong with me. Irving suspects."

The Lady of the Forest nodded her head gracefully.

"Neither will I stay. My magic is growing weaker with each day spent in the city. I must return to the forest. With my wolven kindred, or harm befalls all. Before you go… I have one request of you."

"I'm listening", - Lilith said.

"Cassian… one of the werewolves. Take him with you. He will protect you."

"Bringing a werewolf to the new Grey Warden fortress is such a great idea, you think?" – Lilith arched a brow at the Lady.

"You will need him, Lilith. And… he is special. I cannot tell you more, but trust me. He needs to be on this journey."

"All right, I guess we are one werewolf in a team more", - Lilith sighed. – "I don't know why I trust you. But I do. And if the mages and the Templars finally decide I am an abomination that needs to be killed, a werewolf might come in handy."

"I wish you luck on your travels", - the Lady whispered. – "You have a great destiny to fulfil… one that did not end with killing the Archdemon."

***

The next day they were going out the gates of Denerim, the blood mage Grey Warden, her husband and fellow Warden Alistair, the assassin Zevran, the great werewolf Cassian who snarled at the passers-by as they recoiled from the sight of him in horror, and the two new Grey Wardens who survived their Joining, the deformed Hunch and the handsome Fox. Goon had died at the Joining having drunk of the dark blood.

Lilith threw one last glance at the busy and dirty Denerim. Then shifted her gaze to the road ahead. It wound and wound its way to the horizon, to the unknown. It was time to travel to that unkown, once again.


	8. Chapter 7: The Runaway

CHAPTER 7: THE RUNAWAY.

The air around him was growing colder and colder, but he pressed on. The snowy tops of the Frostback Mountains loomed ahead, closing off half of the night sky menacingly. There was an inn somewhere in this area, or so he had been told by a travelling merchant who threw a weird look at him. He hoped that the merchant would not tell them. If he did, he did not care any longer. Let them take him. Let them chain him and execute him, it should not be more painful than going on like this, in this mad tortured corrupted world.

But still he pressed on, and on, like a hunted beast trying to escape its inevitable fate even knowing it is useless. He was cold, and feverish, his head throbbed and his throat fell sore, he wanted the warmth of the inn hearth before they finally caught him.

_Oh, but can't they see, can't they all see, what I did was necessary, I had to save them before their souls were finally corrupted and twisted and turned to evil again..._

Memories still stood before his eyes, they would not let go. Their screams for mercy, the tears standing in their eyes... that one girl, she looked so much like _her_, she grabbed hold of his hand and implored him to pity her... but she was the one whose soul the corruption touched most, oh, he could see it, yes, an Abomination hiding behind those lovely features, in those wide fearful innocent eyes... and pity was what he granted her, exactly, he made sure she did not suffer, he drove his sword through her heart in one quick final thrust, she did not have the time to feel pain, he did not hurt her... she fell to the floor, staring at him with those clear beautiful eyes which were beginning to turn misty, which would forever now remain innocent, never touched by the Abomination horror...

That last one stood before his eyes too. He had been fleeing them, they had proclaimed him a mad beast that had to be killed and were following in his tracks. That girl's father was a nobleman, he was apalled and devastated at the death of his only sixteen-year-old daughter whom he had given to the Circle to study. And so they hunted him, and so he fled, west from Lake Calenhad to the jagged mountain peaks. She took him in and gave him shelter, she lived alone in those wilds... an apostate hedge witch, she was still young though older than him. Her hair was tangled and her clothes were dirty, but oh how much she looked like _her_. How very much, with that dark thick hair and hazel eyes and full lips. What a reminder of his sin coming to haunt him, and that evil was lurking beneath that fair smooth skin, oh yes he could see very well now... what happened in the Tower left him acute to those manifestations, and what a more welcome vessel for _them _than an apostate witch... The night was chill, and her hut was small, she smiled that shy smile and welcomed him to her bed... and he could not resist that sinful pull, in the darkness and cold and the knowledge of his own death growing so near, following at his heels, he gave in to the fire and passion and the animal heat of her body closing around his flesh, her little gasps of extasy as he laboured on top of her, plunging deeper inside her... It was _her _face he saw, _her _eyes, _her _mouth giving those sinful little moans... and how clearly he could see the Abomination beneath that flushing flesh, how clearly it stood out amidst his horror and wicked pleasure, how it laughed in his face as she frantically pressed him closer to her, her delicate hands clutching at his back... He traced her face lovingly, lowering his own large warrior hands to her shoulders and neck, caressing her full breasts, her skin was so smooth and soft... Shuddering from pleasure getting more and more intense, their coupling getting wilder and wilder, he put his hands on her throat and squeezed slowly, gently, lovingly, thrusting his manhood deeper inside her, looking not into the eyes of an apostate hedge witch, but into the eyes of the woman he loved, who had been his secret and his sin and his happiness and his curse. She liked that, she bit her lips in wild pleasure and her soft hot flesh contracted around him which made him groan... but as he squeezed stronger and stronger, she started flailing her arms against him in his steel embrace, wiggling under him and trying to free herself, but he held on, loving her and holding her and driving the darkness from her body as he possessed it... her eyes started to bulge, and her lips turned blue, and as she stopped beating against him, he climaxed intensely inside her and let her go, collapsing on her body which started to grow cool quickly in the cold air. The force of it startled him, he had never had it come so strong, not when he had been doing it himself or with a dark-haired prostitute thinking of _her_... he lay embracing her for several long moments, caressing her throat which had been so bruised by his hands. But duty was first and foremost, oh yes, it had always come first with Templars, and so he got up, for there should be no chance for an Abomination to claim that body. He took her crude meat knife, and plunged it up to the point between those full breasts, still glistening with small drops of sweat which was now already cold. Before leaving, he planted a tender kiss on her bluish lips.

That memory, and the others, kept returning to him as he sped on his way from his persecutors to the Frostback Mountains. Those memories of the apprentice mage girl, and that witch, and other memories too... Lilith dancing on a dare in the hall next to First Enchanter's quarters, stomping her feet with a devilish beautiful smile, Lilith unconscious after the successful passing of her Harrowing, Lilith coming up to him like a nightmare and the sweetest dream when he was contained trapped in the magical prison... Those memories had never left him, no matter how he tried to squeeze them out with that witch's last breath, no matter how he repented and prayed to Andraste. He always carried his sin with him. In memories and dreams and nightmares, in the small round cameo portrait he was carrying now against his breast. She was his heaven and hell, his happiness and his curse, and she was always with him.

As he half-closed his eyes to the fever images of her and nearly fell into the cold mud, he suddenly caught a glimpse of fire close ahead. He forced himself to make a few more staggering steps, and saw the inn. The lantern on its side was burning dimly, welcoming travellers.

Half an hour later he was sitting in the crude main room of the inn, still shaking and pressing his ragged cloak close to him. The innkeeper threw him suspicious glances... it was unlikely they knew of the killings in this Maker-forsaken place, but he must be a suspicious sight in himself. His red hair was dirty and unkempt, his cheeks were covered with reddish stubble, his eyes were bloodshot and feverish.

"I hope you haven't got the plague?" – the innkeeper asked scowling, setting a jug of water before him. The traveller shook his head and gulped the water in several mouthfuls. The air was so hot. All the men in the room, quite few of them in this place, most of them hunters or poachers or brigands, no doubt, were huddled in warm cloaks, but how could they, it was so hot. His own cloak fell to the ground, revealing his filthy blood-stained clothes. The innkeeper recoiled from him, retreating to the inn stand, shooting worried glances at him. The runaway Templar no longer cared. Let him call his men, and throw him somewhere in the cellar until they arrive for him. He smiled a mad smile gazing at her silhouette dancing in the candle's flame.

He had not noticed how one of the men sat near him at his table. When he lifted his hurting eyes, the hooded man was already there sitting across from him, looking at him closely with piercing dark eyes.

"You are unwell, son. You have a fever."

"Leave me alone..." – he muttered. His tongue felt swollen and it was difficult to speak.

"Here", - the man procured a small dark vial from the folds of his cloak. He took the cup with the remaining water and poured the inside of the vial into it. It was dark red, it stained the water with its colour, the Templar watched the dark liquid swirling inside his cup. – "It will make you feel better." – the man in the hood said. – "I am not trying to poison you", - he added with a smile.

The young man did not care if he lived or died. He took the cup and dried it in one single gulp.

The liquid had a strange taste to it. Something sweet and bitter at the same time. But it made him feel warm inside instantly, and at the same time took the burning heat away. It enveloped his throat in something thick and soft and pleasant, and his throat did not hurt anymore. The throbbing pain in his head and eyes was also gone.

"I thank you", - he bowed his head. – "Are you a healer?"

"I am not a healer, my young friend," – the man flashed his white teeth in a smile. – "Yet I am the one who would never leave a brother in Holy Andraste in suffering", - he pointed to the amulet with Andraste's holy symbol etched into it which the Templar wore on his neck.

Now that the runaway was feeling much better, he took a close look at his benefactor. The man did not look like a healer or a mage, and for that the Templar was grateful, these Abominations could be lurking everywhere, no mage could be trusted now... this man looked more like a warrior, he was tall and strongly built, the cloak could not hide his powerful frame, and on his back he carried a great two-handed axe. He was in his forties, and gave off an aura of one who was used to leading people and commanding them, the young Templar had witnessed that before in Knight-Commander Ser Gregoire whom he had always admired as his hero before the last events with the Abominations in the Circle Tower which had shattered his beliefs in everything, Sir Gregoire included. Yet despite this clearly felt commanding aura of a people's leader, the man sitting now in front of him was wearing very plain clothes, his cloak was undistinguishable from that of any poor traveller. His traits, despite the lines in them, could be called handsome, though crude and coarse as if cut from stone. He had a long bushy black beard which somehow hid his mouth, full but with a hint of cruelty, or simply strength, in it. With a start the young Templar realized that the man before him reminded him of his own father. Though his father's beard had been red like his son's hair...

"Tell me, son..." – that the man addressed him as "son" only added to that shocking emotional feeling of similarity between him and his father, - "Do you believe in Holy Andraste with all your heart?"

"I do", - he said wholeheartedly. Somehow he felt the urge now to follow this strong man with a stern mouth but kind eyes, to do what he says. Suddenly he felt all the horrors of recent events take their toll on him, suddenly he felt younger than his twenty-four years and shamefully close to tears.

"You are in trouble... But Holy Andraste looks after those who believe in Her, and cares for them. All you have done... you have done in Her name, be it not? They are near, those who wish you harm... but fear not, for She is with you..." – the man reached a hand across the table, his piercing eyes never leaving the runaway's.

The young man's own eyes grew wide with astonishment.

"This is your chance for redemption... take it", - whispered the black-bearded man.

The Templar reached out a shaking hand and put it in the man's outstretched hand which clasped around it firmly. The other man smiled, and there was something predatory in the way his white teeth glinted in the inn's half-dark.

"Now that is good... Tell me, son... what is your name?"

"My name is... Cullen", - the runaway gulped. He managed a little smile, which lit up his face and made it look almost childish.


End file.
